


I Should Be Studying

by squidnie



Series: prompts no one asked for [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 14:02:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7225282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidnie/pseuds/squidnie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m at the library to study because my roommate is loud and sloppy and I just want some peace and quiet but you keep bringing your latest hook-up to the stacks right by me to make out and I get so fed up with it that I start a campaign to make sure you never get laid again”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Should Be Studying

**Author's Note:**

> This is (pretty loosely) based on the prompt “I’m at the library to study because my roommate is loud and sloppy and I just want some peace and quiet but you keep bringing your latest hook-up to the stacks right by me to make out and I get so fed up with it that I start a campaign to make sure you never get laid again” from a post by all-i-write-are-sins on tumblr.
> 
> Unbeta'd. I'll probably come back and fix mistakes.

The first time she sees him, she doesn't think twice about it

It's getting late. Clark knows she's of the last of the students in the library, and she plans to stay until closing. She has a midterm coming up and she can't handle Raven's loud study music blasting through their apartment. So she's hunkered down in a back corner of the library on the top floor, books and highlighters spread out on the table as she goes through her notes.

She sees him out of the corner of her eye as she's going through her list of nerves for Anatomy. A mop of dark hair, tan skin, fingers holding onto a slim arm connected to a thin girl with dark hair and a short skirt.

Clarke doesn't care about the situation until she realizes she can hear them. Soft, feminine moans in time with a rhythmic thumping of books on a shelf. Then a deeper, more masculine growl and, very distinctly, the words, "fuck, you feel good."

With a sigh, Clarke pulls her earphones out of bag, turning to Mozart to drown out the noise.

***

The second time, she sees his face.

It's a nice face. Objectively. Clarke can at least understand how this is his second library hook up in a two week period.

What she can't understand, however, is what it is about the library that apparently turns people on. All she wants is a nice, quiet place to read up on Pharmaceutical Chemistry in peace. Do people really need to get it on in the bookshelves?

After about two minutes of the sounds coming from the shelves to her left, Clarke packs her things. She gets a clear view of the man's hand up the woman's shirt as she passes the shelf.

***

The third time, Clarke actually catches it at the end. She had a late night at work and decided to get in an hour or so of studying. Which just so happened to put her in her corner of the library just as a girl with messy hair and an inside-out shirt comes out from the usual shelves.

Curiosity gets the better of her; that is the only explanation Clarke can give herself as she peeks around a shelf. A man stands there, shrugging on his shirt in time to just give Clarke a glance of his tanned, toned abs and a dark thatch of hair leading into his jeans.

Well, fuck.

"Looking for something?" His voice is low, scratchy, but clearly amused. All Clarke can think is that, yes, she has definitely heard that man's sex voice.

She means to say something casual, like, "That book by your shoulder, there." What actually comes out of her mouth is, "You know, having sex in the library isn't the smartest of ideas."

A smirk plays on the man's lips. "Is that so?"

And that stumps her. He's not embarrassed. There isn't an ounce of shame in his demeanor. "It's inconsiderate. Some of us are here to study. Some of us want good grades. Some of us want to graduate."

The smirk doesn't so much as waiver. "Some of us can do those things and get laid," the man says. "If you want quiet, don't study on the fourth floor of the library. You should be happy it's just us you ran into."

So the fourth floor of the library is the sex floor. In her five years at the school, how did Clarke not know that?

"I'll study where I damn well please," she counters.

The man just laughs. "Guess I'll see you around, then, Princess."

***

And so it becomes Clarke's personal mission to cockblock the bookshelf escapades. Because, really, some things are more important than studying.

It doesn't happen often, averaging about once a week for a month or so. After a few encounters, she's surprised that he keeps coming to the same place when he has to know she's not going to give up her study space. Clarke is even more surprised to see that it's not a new girl every time.

She doesn't let herself wonder if he has a girlfriend. She doesn't care. Really. She doesn't.

She tries to catch it early, of course. She's not a creep. She just wants her study space back. So when she starts to hear the first noises, she uses an excuse to go into the bookshelves.

"Excuse me," she says the first time, trying not to notice the way the man bites at the woman's lower lip before he pulls away, "I need a book behind you."

He gives her a look that says he doesn't believe her, but maneuvers away from the bookshelf without breaking contact with the girl in his arms. Looking over his shoulder, he reads the spines of the books behind him, then returns his gaze to Clarke. "Architecture?" He questions, arching an eyebrow.

After that, she thinks of better excuses.

She interrupts a few make-out sessions before they get too hot and heavy, which is what Clarke hopes for. She does, however, walk into a scene of the girl on her knees in front of the man, his jeans unzipped and her hand down his boxers. Clarke's squeak is enough to break up that party.

Through the weeks, she learns through pleasured sighs that the man's name is Bellamy. She also learns that he wears Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

Her biggest surprise, however, comes on the night that she finds Bellamy alone in the shelves, perusing the architecture books like they're his actual reason for being there.

"Bellamy?" The name falls from her lips before Clarke can stop it. For a split second she considers bolting, but then his head snaps up from the book he was reading. They lock eyes, and he smirks. "Waiting for someone?" She asks before he can get a word in.

"Yes," he replies simply. Clarke can't explain the sudden pang in her chest in response to his words. Honestly, she doesn't want to think about it.

"Well," she says, hoping her voice sounds normal, "keep it down."

Bellamy's smirk returns. "You mean you aren't going to interrupt tonight?"

Clarke feels her cheeks heat up and silently curses herself for blushing. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Amusement dances in Bellamy's eyes. "Of course you don't. And anyway, it's okay. The person I was waiting for already showed up."

When Clarke doesn't react, Bellamy steps closer with an eyebrow raised in a silent challenge. "What did you say your name was?"

"Clarke," she answers automatically, hating the way her heart thumps harder at his closeness.

"Well, Clarke, would you like to get dinner with me sometime?" She gapes at him, and Bellamy laughs at her stunned expression. "Don't tell me you're still pretending that you're not interested in me."

Clarke tries to argue, she really does, but the words come out jumbled and she knows it's hopeless.

"To be fair," Bellamy says, and she can hear the smile in his tone, "I have to tell you that I'm interested in you, too."

Clarke hesitates for a moment. "So, dinner..."

"How do you feel about Italian?"

***

Maybe the two of them end up at an Italian restaurant that weekend, and maybe Clarke really enjoys it.

And maybe she also enjoys being held up against the architecture bookshelf by a solid body and strong arms on the fourth floor of the library after dinner.

And maybe she's really glad that no one interrupts.


End file.
